


music (over the sound of the future)

by Quillium



Series: bluepulse week 2k19 [5]
Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Tumblr: Bluepulse Week 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-29 06:33:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19824508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillium/pseuds/Quillium
Summary: “Oh,” Jaime sits down on Bart’s bed. He looks around at the posters on the walls, the little glow-in-the-dark stars and the small bookshelf in the corner, “I mean, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”





	music (over the sound of the future)

**Author's Note:**

> So Bluepulse week ended and I got a few delays... but I'm determined to finish this series anyway! (Mostly because writing for this fandom has been a really fun experience and I love these two.)

They’re walking through a plaza when Bart spots the piano beside a cafe. It’s painted bright blue, the edges of its seat worn a bit by the rain.

“Hold this,” Bart hands Jaime his slushy and slides into the piano bench.

“You can play?” Jaime takes a sip of Bart’s slushy, laughing when Bart glares at him.

“Dinah taught me.”

“Black Canary knows how to play the piano?”

“If she taught me, then she must,” Bart reasons.

 _The Impulse has sound logic_ , Scarab notes.

“You got me there. What can you play?”

“Songs?” Bart shrugs and starts to run through a few scales, fast and precise up the piano, then down again.

Jaime bites back a smile, “You don’t know what songs?”

“I did know!” Bart pouts. He starts the beginning of something that sounds jazzy and upbeat, fast with a lot of eight and grace notes. “I just… forgot.”

Jaime laughs a bit, “Well, it sounds good. You must have practiced a lot.”

“It kept my interest,” Bart takes a sip of his slushy.

“Something that kept your attention?” Jaime laughs and takes a sip of his own slushy, “Amazing. And here I thought you had the attention span of a flea.”

“We didn’t have music in the future, so.”

“Oh,” Jaime frowns and sits down next to Bart on the bench. Uncertain of whether the future is a safe topic or not, he asks, “What kind of music do you like?”

“All music,” Bart goes back to scales so he can concentrate on his conversation with Jaime, “Whenever Superboy’s around I listen to classical stuff but Nightwing likes kpop and Batgirl likes indie stuff and Wonder Girl likes rap.”

“And you like all of it?”

“Yeah,” Bart goes through a few chords, “But I like making music, too. I think it’s really cool.”

“I could teach you how to play the guitar. If you want, I mean.”

“That sounds great! I can learn how to play every instrument in the world!”

“Maybe not _every_ instrument—“

“You don’t think I can do it?”

“Not the point, _ese_.”

“You think I’ll give up?”

“I think if you want to, you can, and I should shut up now,” Jaime laughs and takes a sip of Bart’s slushy.

“Oi, that’s mine!”

“Is it?” Jaime fakes innocence, “Oh, my, it’s just so delicious, I can’t stop—“ he takes another sip.

“Jerk!” Bart takes a sip of Jaime’s for revenge.

Jaime laughs and pulls his slushy away. He hands Bart’s back, “Alright, alright, I give. Taro’s better than mango anyway.”

“Did that sentence really just come out of your mouth? Because that’s _crazy_.”

“Is not. Mango is good, but taro slushies are the best.”

“I can’t believe this. I can’t be friends with you anymore. You’re choosing taro—which tastes like nothing—over _mangos_?”

“Not my fault you don’t have good taste.”

Bart shakes his head and laughs, and they leave behind the piano with its blue paint.

__

“Hey, her-nano-oh.”

“Please stop trying to speak spanish.”

“You know you love it,” Bart drapes himself over Jaime’s shoulders, “Whatcha reading?”

“Is that a legit question or do you already have a topic in mind?”

“We can do both.”

“Are we doing both?”

Bart wriggles, “Maybe.”

“Yes or no, _hermano_.”

“It’s up to you.”

Jaime bookmarks his page and sets the book down, “Alright, let’s talk.”

“Not in the lounge.”

“Is that what this is called?”

“The… living room?”

“It wasn’t a judgement.”

“The living _space_.”

“Let’s move on,” Jaime stands up, “You have a place in mind?”

“My room. Race you there?”

“Knowing you’ll win?”

“That’s the fun of it.”

“For you, maybe.”

Bart snickers and bounces in place a bit, “Definitely fun for me.”

“Not a race,” Jaime tilts his head, “But you can run ahead if you want. I’ll just walk.”

“Why walk when you can _fly_?” Bart demands.

“We’re indoors,” Jaime ruffles Bart’s hair, “Not all of us are fond of making messes all over the place.”

“Sounds boring,” Bart zips off.

Once Jaime reaches Bart’s room, Bart has set the radio to loud rock music that involves a bit too much screaming for Jaime’s tastes.

“You think you can change the channel, _ese_?” Jaime covers his ears, “Or better yet, shut that down?”

Bart turns the sound down a bit but doesn’t do much else, “We need loud music, I’m talking to you about stuff.”

“What stuff requires _this_ in the background?”

“Future stuff.”

Jaime’s brow furrows, “You think I might be at risk of—“

“No, no!” Bart waves his hands, “No way. It’s just, you seem kind of like you want to know about the future but don’t want to ask, so I thought I’d take this time to have you get all your questions out. But just you. I don’t want someone else listening in, so—“ he gestures at the radio.

“Oh,” Jaime sits down on Bart’s bed. He looks around at the posters on the walls, the little glow-in-the-dark stars and the small bookshelf in the corner, “I mean, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“It’s alright,” Bart shrugs, zips around a bit, and eventually takes the spot next to Jaime, “Since it’s you.”

“Oh,” Jaime swallows, “But, you know, the past—future—whatever it is—it’s not as important to me as you. If I want to hear about the future, it’s because I like listening to you talk or because I want to hear more about you. That’s it.”

“Alright,” Bart frowns, “No questions, then?”

“Got one,” Jaime nods at a canary yellow guitar leaning against the bookshelf, “You still want me to teach you how to play that?”

The answer is yes.


End file.
